Dead Rising: The Parody
by Luna-Starr
Summary: Frank West, a photojounralist with a need for a ground breaking scoop, finds himself in a mall of zombies. Too bad he didnt pack a gun. Or some common sense. Spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing and I LIKE it.

Luna: Yeah…I noticed there's like, no stories for Dead Rising at all. And that, good friends, is a shame. With my notorious rep of doing parodies of well…anything, I've decided to make Dead Rising another victim. (smirks) So, my friend Matt and I, have decided to grace you all with a full length parody of the entire game. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Luna wishes she had a title name

We meet our hero, photojournalist Frank West in a helicopter. He beings snapping pictures faster than a paparazzi on the prowl for Paris Hilton's next scandal, as his pilot, who most certainly is not Brad Victors from Resident Evil who will leave his sorry ass to die in a forest filled with undead, blood thirsty dogs says, " Say, buddy... You mentioned somethin' about research for a story."

Frank nods at this, and says, with a gleam in his eye, " That's right. I got a tip that somethin' big is happening. Even if that something causes me to deal with the undead, crazy people in yellow raincoats, and special ops units who will look to shoot me to death until they drag me on their helicopter."  
Haha, Frank. You're the type of guy that makes irony fun!

" In a nowhere little town like that? They sure didn't mention anything about it on TV…" said the pilot, whose name was Ed.

Frank took minor offense to this, and proclaimed, " Well, I'm freelance, pal. I don't make my living waitin' for the TV to tell me what to cover. I use every resource possible to get the most obscure, unknown and potentially dangerous situation for a scoop."

Ed was amused by Frank's attitude and patted him on the arm, " Ha ha! You sound like you'd sell your soul for a story!"

"…Who says I haven't?"  
And he might of laughed, if Frank didn't look completely serious. Come on now, you knew there wasn't something exactly right in his head in the first place. Who volunteers to go to a zombie infested mall?

" Here she is. Hahaha! Willamette, Colorado. Population: 53,594. Distinguishing characteristics: Jack shit! Hahahahahaha! About the only thing to do in this town is kill time at the shopping mall." cried Ed, because, apparently, shopping malls and small towns were a funny bone tickler to this guy.

Frank took his trusty camera and pointed it at some military people by a barricade. Snapping away, Ed says, " What was that, the army?"  
" No. It was your mom." Frank said, dully.

"…What?"

"Looks like taking a helicopter was the best way to go. I bet they've got all the roads blocked off by now." Frank concluded.

Well, children, let's stop for a second. Wouldn't that be a sure sign of something in creditably BAD happening? Wouldn't you…I don't know, get the hint that maybe you should turn back now?

" Alright listen... I want to get shots of the whole town before the National Guard finishes roping it off. Take me over the main street." Frank decided.

Apparently not. Never underestimate the desperation of a free-lance photo journalist whose lived in a ruddy apartment with a single candle to keep the place lit and who has sufficed himself of instant ramen for 3 weeks straight, which we all know Frank has.

The helicopter flies over a person who happens to be fighting for his life against zombies…on top of a car. Instead of doing anything like a moral individual would, like, I don't know, trying to help that person; they flew from a safe distance and watched. And took pictures.

" Whoa…is that some sort of a riot?" asked Ed, dumbly.

The zombies over take the dude and begin feasting on him. Human flesh. The other white meat.

" Is this what you came to take pictures of?"  
As Frank got several points for BRUTALITY he nodded. Nothing gives you points and attention like the destruction of human life, folks.

Ed flies the 'copter by a bus, and cries, " No way! Check that out... Look at all those people. What the hell's happening here?"

" I have no idea... But one thing's for sure. Whatever's going on down there... It's not business as usual in this town." said Frank, finger never leaving the camera's shutter, the prospect of all the money he would get from this story dancing in his head. Break dancing.

" Whoa!" cried Ed, which, was in fact; a rather delayed reaction to see all these zombies milling about.

And then a gas station exploded, which Frank, like the morbid, death loving individual he is; jumped on. What zombie game would it be without the exploding of a gas station? Not a good one, let me tell you.

" Ugh, Holy shit did you see that?!"  
No. Frank wasn't taking pictures of the huge ass explosion, he was taking myspace pictures of his own handsome face. Already, I can feel the IQ points dropping like flies.

" Yeah…" answered Frank, wondering why he had to hire Captain Obvious as his pilot.

" I'm gonna take her up for a second…" said Ed, clearly freaked.

" No! Take us down!" cried Frank, suddenly, " We have to check that building so I can take pictures of people's brutal mauling while I do nothing to help them!"  
Since no one can argue with such logic, Captain Obvious agreed only to ask, " Where?"  
" Right below us…that's what down means…" said Frank, trying hard not to incorporate the word 'dumbass' at the end of the sentence.

So, he files them down to where a woman is being cornered by zombies on a roof. She starts off shooting them, in a frenzy, but then she runs outta bullets. Frank and Ed were, of course, in a perfect position to let the ladder down and you know, help, but hey! What's a good news scoop if people don't die in gruesome ways in your pictures? It wouldn't be a good news scoop at all, if you'd ask Frank. If you asked me, I'd say Frank was a tad of a sadist.

The zombie runs at her, knocking her down, and they both fall to the ground. In a blood spattered, bone shattering, disgusting mess. Frank made sure to take many a picture of it, and kept one for himself.

" Ohhh…" said Ed, as if her falling to her death was a punch-line to a joke that took him several seconds to figure out.

" I want to see the center of town," commanded Frank, clearly unimpressed by the graphic violence he saw here, he wanted some _of the action_, " Take me there."

" Roger."

" …Its Frank."

Ed didn't even bother to answer that.

Frank then spots a mall. Rapidly taking pictures, he cries, " Hey! Can you take me to that mall!" cause it had a heli-pad. Because God knows every mall has a heli-pad…

" You gotta be kiddin' me? Awww... man. You are nuts." Ed said, sighing.

" Alright, listen... Don't forget to come back for me!" said Frank.

" What do I look like, some chicken heart?" he asked, as somewhere, Brad Victors sneezed, " As you as you ain't dead, Fred."

" I told you, its Frank!" he said, exasperated, " Frank West. Remember my name, cause the whole world is going to know it in a couple days."

Which has shown how far down the path of mad greed dearest Frank was on.

That's when military helicopters flew around him, as Ed tries to get it out of the way, and Frank's brief case went sky diving. And all his instant ramen packets, and, if he's smart, a hell of a lot of guns; went flying to the roof.

Panicking, Frank cried, " Get us back to that roof top!"  
" I know I'm gonna get my butt chewed for this one." said Ed, and the mental imagery is priceless.

The helicopter descends, and Frank jumps out. Who the hell does he think he is? Leon Kennedy? And he only did windows…

" Wooo!!" he cried, and lands on flat on his ass.

His 'woo' soon turns to 'ughs.'

" Ugh! What the hell was I thinking?!"  
That's when a man, who looks a lot like a more menacing version of Luis Sera from Resident Evil 4, approaches Frank. Frank, who is rubbing his wounded ass.

" Hello there! You're the reporter aren't you?" he asked, curiously.

" Uh…yeah."

" You come here often?" he asked, " Oh, I'm sorry…that came out weird. My English is…eh…You came…alone?"

Frank stared, was he hitting on him…?  
" Yeah! I'm freelance… You know... Go into the battlefield alone... No crew…no weapons…no precautions at all… So, uh... What's goin' on around here anyway?" he asked, blinking.

So, the Luis rip-off, whose name is Carlito though he doesn't once introduce himself, says, " You came by helicopter didn't you? What did you see from the sky?"

"Well... If it were just a riot... I doubt the military would quarantine the entire area. The moratorium on information getting out is a little... extreme... in my opinion. There's uh... Somethin' else I can't put my finger on. Doesn't sound like civil disobedience... It's too quiet." decided Frank, who must've never seen a zombie flick in his whole, sad existence since he couldn't put 2 and 2 together.

" Hmm, he, he, he. Almost as if... everyone's already dead." said Carlito, smirking, as if what he said wasn't complete foreshadowing.

" Yeah... So, why don't you just tell me already? What's goin' on?" it seemed Frank DID need someone like Ed around to state the obvious.

"…Man, do I need to spell it out for you?" asked Carlito, clearly taken aback by his stupidity, " Anyway…this my friend…is hell!"

Oh ho, dramatic.

Luna: Okay, reviews? Feed back?…Death threats? )blinks) Next chapter: Enter the Mall. OH YEAH.


	2. Enter the mall

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Luna: Yay! I'm so happy we have fans! I'll update 2-3 times a week from now on, cause I originally thought it would take off like a lead balloon. . ANYWAY! Here it is…And I used the names of friends for the dead characters later on, cause I couldn't remember their names for the life of me.

Chapter 2: Enter the mall.

Frank stared at Carlito for a second and said, " Okay then…"

He went past him and through the door, gathering some helpful items along the way. And by helpful, I mean a soccer ball, a mannequin hand, and a bucket. But for some weird reason, Frank found that he could not carry all said items. And he felt the urge to take pictures of things…take pictures and he'll be able to carry it. Right? Right.

Frank got past a security screen, where a girl was dragged out of her car by several…people. He stared, and mumbled, " Gang bang?"  
He shrugged, and kept going. Time is money. And money is the product of a good scoop.

Frank got to the main area of the mall, where several people were barricading the entrance with benches and such.

A random man cried, " Hey, bring that over here!"  
A random old lady whines, " Madonna!"

She bumps into the guy holding a bench, and starts panicking.

" Madonna! Oh! Oh!"  
_Madonna? Wondered Frank, as in…like a virgin? Great, now that song is in my head._

" Quit screwing around!" cried Ryan, as the old lady Lindsey collides into Frank.

" Have you seen my baby?" she wailed, freaking, " Have you seen my Madonna? My little doggy?!"  
"…The singer?" he asked, " Oh…wait-"  
But she ran off, anyway. To what we all know is her inevitable death, like all old people in horror movies. They're the first to die.

Frank shrugged. He decided to pass the time by taking pictures.

" See! Something always happens when we go shopping!" said an old man to his wife, " Like that time the store was robbed when you just had to get that prune juice!"  
" Shut up! We needed to get the new DVD limited edition of Murder She Wrote," she retorted, as I had pulled out every old person stereotype I could think of.

" Domestic Dispute!" cried Frank, snapping the photo.

He walked over to a girl comforting a freaked out girl, and snaps the photo; declaring, " I support yuri!"

What's funny is, no one seems to care that Frank is taking random pictures of them. Doesn't anyone find it a little…weird? Creepy? Stalkerish, build a shrine in my closet, creepy?

Frank then proceeded to stare at a 'mysterious' woman on the other side of the door. She regarded him coldly, and Frank kept staring. He liked it when girls played hard to get. Some even went as far to put restraining orders on him; but hey. More of a challenge.

" Hey! This is no time to be staring at pretty girls and trying to lose your virginity, son!" cried Ryan, " Are you looking to get eaten by zombies-"  
Before Frank could protest he wasn't a virgin since that time in college when he got piss drunk and that band geek threw herself at him, he said, " What? Did you say zombies?"  
Ryan sighed.

" Take a look out there! If those ain't zombies, what would you call 'em? There's been more and more of 'em since last night. Now they're all that's out there. Unless they are really drunken, battered, cannibals."

Frank did the only thing all reporters do when in the face of adversary. Take pictures.

" Alright then! Feel like makin' yourself useful? Take a look around the mall and bring anything we can use for the barricade back here. Andale! C'mon! Pronto!" said Ryan.

Frank glared.

" I am doing something useful, I'm taking Kodak moments before they get in here and kill everyone." Frank stated, but went to the back of the mall and help anyway.

Frank bent over to get some objects for the barricade that was on a one way trip to hell, when he noticed an old man on the other side of the gate.

" Huh?" asked he asked, dumbly.

Being the great photographer he is, Frank automatically takes a picture of him; for he's never seen an old man in the wild.

Dazed from the flash, he screamed, " You! Stop right there. Do you have any idea what you've done. Why did you summon me to this place!? What are you planning!? Oh, my EYES!"

The old man pokes his cane through the gates and shanks Frank in the ribs.

" Will you calm down-"

" Maybe I would if someone didn't flash their camera light in my eyes I would've calmed down!"

And with that, the old man hobbles off, still seeing spots from the flash.

" What the-?" Frank began.

Like every old person or child in any horror movie, Lindsey is an idiot. An idiot that would cause a bunch of people to suffer because of her stupidity, much like those brats from 28 weeks later who caused the entire place to get infected because listening to the quarantine rule was so last summer.

" Madonna!" she screamed like a banshee in heat, " My Madonna is out there! Being touched for the very first time!"  
She starts moving the barricades, which is sorta weird cause she's old and frail and she's just…never mind.

Everyone started screaming at her, asking her what the hell she was doing. Lindsey ignored this, because the logic that the zombies were after _humans _not animals; was last summer, too. 2 burly men grabbed her, only for Lindsey to break free. Okay, how the hell does some tiny, frail, little old lady take on 2 grown men and win?

" Ageism!" screamed Frank, taking a picture.

Lindsey moves the barricade, screaming, " I'm coming to save you baby! And letting everyone die in the process!"

Sure enough, she was pulled through the doors as her prissy poodle yelped.

That's when all hell broke loose, and the zombie invasion began.

Frank grabbed a bench and began mashing and bashing every zombie he saw.

" TOM JENKINS! IS DEAD!" a disembodied voice announced, in a voice that resembled Mr. Moviefones'.

" What the fu-" began Frank.

" SEAN THATCHER! IS DEAD!" it cried, again.

Frank looked around frantically. _Where the hell is that voice coming from!?_

Unfortunately for everyone else, Frank was only out for himself this time around. He threw a trash can on one zombie, and smacked another with a potted plant. As he neared the stairs, the same voice said, " AMANDA MARRA! IS DEAD!"

" Way to make a guy feel guilty!" snapped Frank, eyes at the sky, cursing the voice.

" What in the hell are you people doing!? Run! Quick! Move! Get over here! Everyone! Move this way! Quick! To the stairs! Mooooove!" came a man's voice, Brad; from the second floor area.

Frank follows him into the security room, where the menace of society know as Otis closes the door behind him.

" Where are the others?" demands Brad, as Frank stumbles in; panting.

" What others-I mean…uh…I tried my hardest but they're sorta zombie chow," Frank said, quickly.

Otis grabs a blow torch and started blowing the door…wow, seriously re-read that sentence for a second. I need some maturity. And perhaps better sentence structure.

" As long as those things are in the mall, we shouldn't use that door," said Brad, whose intelligence shocked me.

Brad then proceeded to stick his head up the air duct, to which Frank took a snap shot of. You know, for his scrap book.

" Downright oddness!" he cried, taking a picture.

" I'm not being weird," he sighed, " Those things aren't smart enough to use the ducts. So they won't be a factor.

" Wait a minute, you want to get back in there?" asked Frank, who wouldn't stop him cause the thought of a lot of brutality pics of him getting chowed on by zombies entered his greedy photojournalist head, " What for?"

Brad looks up in the duct and then crawls in it.

" Hey! Hey!" Frank cried, staring.

That's when Jessie appeared. And James. Team Rocket blast off at the speed of light! Surrender now or-wrong, wrong game. Wrong T.V show. Wrong everything.

" Nice camera…Are you a photojournalist?" asked Jessie.

" As a matter of fact, I am. Frank West, photojournalist." as he extends his hand to shake.

" Can you show me some pictures, Frank?"  
Frank drops his hand and shows her the pictures on his camera. The first one was of a zombie chewing on someone's face, the next was the 2 girls, and the other one was Frank, half naked, on silk sheets, wearing a leopard print thong; making a porno face. Or looking very constipated, that depends on your opinion. Jessie gave him a weird look and he quickly moved over it, " That was for uh, a special occasion-"

" Wait! Stop!" she cried.

" Huh?…You wanna see it again?" asked Frank, surprised but sorta happy.

" No! The old man!"  
" Old man? Oh…" he said, let down, " I took it near the entrance…why? He do something?"  
Jessie stops for a second.

" Nope. Thanks for showing me, though."

Jessie hands him back his camera, and he says, " Hey! We're not done talking! Just who are you guys?"  
" I'm Jessie. The man you saw earlier was Brad. That's all I can tell you. Or I'll have to kill you."  
Seeing as Frank had nothing better to do but roam the mall without a weapon and traverse against seas of zombies to get some pictures, Frank went to the air duct. Where Otis said, " Hey! Take this map and walkie-talkie."  
" Why?"  
" So I can talk to you." he said, grinning.

" Uh…Okay…" he said, figuring Otis was a lonely old man.

And he would later find out just how lonely Otis was. As in, he's gonna KEEP calling.

So Frank went off to pursue his life goal of becoming filthy rich. That's when the call began.

" Hello?" he asked, answering the thing as he got to the elevator.

" Its Otis. I just wanted to see if you was still alive."  
" Oh. I am…and…"  
" Oh, that's it."  
And he hung up.

Shrugging, Frank got in the elevator.

5 minutes later, as Frank was bashing in the head of a zombie, Otis calls again.

" Frank? You still alive?"  
" Uh, yeah, but I'm a bit-" he smacked the zombie again, " busy at the moment."  
" Oh…I see."

And the conversation ended.

Little did Frank know, as he neared the warehouse hallway thing, how this chain of events would lead to what I'd like to call, ' Lonely old men who don't know when to shut the fuck up.'

Frank, though he was carrying a lead pipe, decided to go for a fire extinguisher.

" Zombies, huh?" he asked, to no one, " I thought that you'd might show up…"  
He swiftly turns, to find Jessie, who gets startled and falls to the ground.

Ow…

Luna: End Chapter! Chapter 3: Frank's covered wars, so that MUST mean he can use a gun!


	3. Frank's covered wars, ya know, so that m

Disclaimer: NOZ.

Luna: Thanks for the support! I Love mah FANS. I finally beat it, and got the crappiest ending, ever. The one when everyone dies. Uh huh…Well, for this story, I'm gonna use Overtime mode's ending, thanks to Matt who doesn't fail at the game…(shifty eyes) and cause it's the perfect ending! (grins) Here it comes…

Chapter 3: Frank's covered wars, so that must mean he can use a gun!

" AHHH!" screamed Jessie, as she went down like a pile of bricks.

" Oh! Oh God!" cried Frank, wide-eyed, who would've apologized if he didn't have that nasty habit of trying to be right all the time, " Look, don't sneak up on me!"  
Jessie tries to get up and snaps, " Brad was attacked…and who the hell has monologues with themselves out loud and swings around fire extinguishers, anyway?! Oh!"  
She falls down, again, thanks to her ankle. Which is funny, I didn't see her land on her ankle…

" Its probably just a sprain," said Frank, quite the concerned gentlemen, and by 'concerned' I mean apathetic.

" I've got to help Brad…" she said, sighing, " Or he's done for."  
Frank thought for a moment, and then said, " Alright, fine. Give me your gun. Come on, I got you into this mess. Let me help."  
Yes, by taking the injured girl's long ranged weapon, and only weapon at that; you are definitely helping her. Your not leaving her for dead, no…

" No!" she cried, " I can't let a civilian do that! Its against regulations!"  
" Yeah, well, I don't think they had zombie-infested malls in mind when they wrote those regulations kid." Frank said, matter-of-factly.

She stopped for a second, and the asked, " Do you know how to use one of these things?"  
" Kinda. I've covered wars, you know?" he said, taking it from her.

She stared at him.

" Covering wars and holding and firing a gun are 2 different things, Frank."

He glared.

" Yeah, well, I'm a hella shot at paint ball." he said, annoyed, " And when I come back, we're gonna have a nice, little, chat."  
And just as he left her in the dust, Otis calls. Frank picks up, to hear him yammer that some dude was running around with a camera, too. As if that would interest him more than Brad probably getting caps busted in him as Otis shot the breeze.

And apparently, it did. Just as Frank was exploring the mall and shoving potted plants, Cds, and benches into many a decaying zombie face; Frank went up the stairs to a place known as 'Columbian Roast Masters.' So distracted was he by the food and the thought of food, he didn't notice the zombie that came to take a chunk out of his neck.

Cursing the zombie's momma, Frank pushed him off. Then smacked him with a handy, dandy, chair. Luckily for Frank, with his bloody neck and possibly bleeding jugular; there was orange juice nearby.

It was not only an important source of vitamin C and a complete breakfast; it also stopped bleeding and mortal wounds. Deciding not to question the power and awesomeness of the drinks in the Willamette, Frank shrugged it off. He could do a cover story on magical, heal-all orange juice later. All he needed now was some nice pictures of nice brutality.

Before Frank could get any decent shots of him dealing death to the living dead, Kent showed up.

Here Frank was, minding his own business, and Kent just started randomly talking. I think he liked to hear himself talk. Like Otis.

" I'm gonna show you how to use that camera," said Kent, suddenly, " Whenever you see those PP hovering over someone's head, that's a great time to-"  
" Holy shit!" cried Frank, suddenly, " What the hell! There's 2 floating, P's over your head! What THE HELL!"

" - Any great photographer knows that-" he continued, ignoring him.

" My God…zombies, I can take. But random, floating letters…that's just crazy! Are you sure you see that, too?" asked Frank, still in shock.

"-Now take some pictures of me to get your level up-"

"-What's a level-"  
"-ANY good photojournalist knows what a level is!"  
Frank glared.

" Fine, I accept your challenge, even though Brad is probably getting copper coated candies as dessert as we speak." he said, mind set.

So Frank stalked Kent, taking pictures of him and his 'crouching tiger hidden dragon' moves that he sometimes flipped out when threatened by zombies. Oh, sexy.

" Frank has leveled up!" came Mr. Moviefone's voice from the megaphone.

Frank stared. He decided not to question it, and later perhaps do a coverage on schizophrenia.

" Come on man, take a picture! Don't you know how?" asked Kent, when Frank got bored and stopped.

" Yeah, but I'm not going to waste all my battery power on you. I have to waste it on pictures of humanity's decline…and gory…and sexy ladies." he decided, and left him there.

" Wait! Don't leave me by my lonesome! I R LONELYYY!" screamed Kent, as Frank went off to find Brad.

As Frank mowed through some zombies in the park area, Otis called.

" You're in the park." He said.

" Really, Sherlock?" asked Frank, already starting to feel something a lot like hate bubbling up in him.

" Yeah and-"

He hung up. Because, apparently, since Frank always has to have one hand on his camera and the other on his weapon which now had the phone in it; he couldn't attack anything. Putting the camera around his neck made too much sense.

Frank walks into the food court, where he's nearly gunned down like a dog. Otis decides to call him back just then.

" Otis! I'm being shot at!" he yelled into the phone, as he took cover.

" Don't cut me off like that! Its rude! Anyway-"

Frank hung up. Jesus H Christ.

He spots Brad taking cover not too far away and runs to him.

" Your…uh…girlfriend called me." said Frank.

" Jessie was a booty call, dammnit! Okay, we'll talk later. You know how to use a gun?" asked Brad, frantic.

" I've never fired at a person!" Frank exclaimed, because zombies didn't count as people. I guess.

" Alright, I'll cover you from here. You need to stick to the shadows. Try to get close to the target ok?" asked Brad, returning fire to Carlito.

" Hey, its that crazy Spanish guy I met before!" Frank said, oh wow, he remembered, " And what am I supposed to do when I get to him, exactly?"

" Blow his brains out, idiot." Brad said, appalled by his stupidity.

"…I'm a lot better with a camera, but okay. I'll give it a shot!" decided Frank, because he was so awesome at paintball and that's exactly the same as shooting a gun.

"Alright... Next time he reloads. I'll lay down a suppressing fire. I'm counting on you. Make your way over there. 1...2...3!" cried Brad, and by 'making your way over there' he meant that Frank was gonna do all the legwork.

Yay.

Anyway, Carlito had a silly way of shooting Frank the second he tried to get a lock on him. And by 'suppressing fire' Brad meant that he'll be totally useless and distract Carlito for a fraction of a second. Finally, Frank got close enough to shoot at him as he jumped the gap between some restaurant roof to another.

Carlito, who was either retarded or had a glitch, just kept going back and forth. And Frank just kept shooting. And despite the multiple bullet wounds and all the bleeding and blood all over Carlito; he survives. And somehow has enough strength to grab a rope and swing away, like Tarzen on a jungle vine.

Frank, who was panting like crazy even though he seems pretty ripped and muscular, manages to catch his breath.

" He got away. Who was he, again?" asked Frank.

" I don't know," said Brad.

" Wait, so he just randomly started shooting at you?"  
" Yeah…"  
" Okay then…"  
" Thanks, anyway. The name's Brad."  
Brad extended his hand, and Frank scoffed at that.

" I'd rather have an explanation than a hand shake. The name's West. Frank West. Photojournalist by day, and zombie killer by night."  
"Sorry, I've got nothing to tell you. Look. I don't know what Jessie told you but as far as I'm concerned we're through working together. So, you cover your zombie story and leave the rest to us."

Frank fiddled with his camera. It was time for the old man shot.

"You uh...You guys are lookin' for someone here, aren't ya?"

Brad's jaw dropped.

" Who is that! Where did you take it?" he asked.

Frank took it away, grinning.

" Well…You help me, I help you."

" Damn!"  
Frank clutches the camera like it was his baby until Brad decides to spill his guts.

Luna: End here! Thanks again, guys! Reviews for meeee?


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